Seth Plus One
by misakami
Summary: Magnus gets a little more than he bargained for when he meets Seth at a hotel in Sydney. Special thanks to my friend/beta Scone.


The hotel was too fancy by half for Magnus, and the pinch-faced-khaki-wearing staff seemed to know it. Since the moment he'd entered they'd kept their eyes glued to him, stripping apart every facet of his appearance from his worn boots to his lank curls as though trying to decipher the meaning behind his poverty stricken presence in their hotel. Was he a guest in need of a room? A vagrant seeking shelter from the blistering heat in the AC? With a guitar case and a duffel bag Magnus supposed he could pass for either, but given the establishment's usual clientele, he couldn't wholly blame them for leaning toward the latter assumption. Supposedly the usual guests were big shot athletes and celebrities, who paid not only for opulence but discretion. At least that's with Seth had said, and Magnus knew he couldn't pass for money. So he wasn't too upset when the bartender initially refused him a tab, not really, though in the end his insistence wore her down. There was no telling how long it would take for Seth to arrive, and in the meantime Magnus intended to get good and drunk, despite having approximately five Australian dollary-doos leftover from the airport cab ride in his pocket.

At half-past five the guy was nearly an hour late, but had he bothered to call or text? A quick, stabbing glance at his cell told Magnus that no, he had not, which didn't come as too big of a shock. Seth had a bad habit of blowing his phone up right until the moment Magnus actually wanted to hear from him, at which point he'd drop the iron curtain. In the past this behavior had led to too many awkward phone calls with Seth's wife, which always tended to devolve into Magnus asking if the little rat had died in a ditch somewhere, and Amber invariably replying some derivative of 'God I hope so.' So even when Seth didn't pick up after his fifth call in as many minutes, Magnus didn't dial her number. He could wait patiently, it was a bar after all. Of course, if Seth didn't insist on springing for the seedy Ritz-Carlton equivalent of Sydney every time he flew into town Magnus could have bought the room himself outright, but a $900 price tag was more suited to the Dethklok Company credit card. As were the drinks he'd been sipping on for the past forty-five minutes.

Fiddling with the rim of his Jack and Coke, Magnus swiveled on the bar stool to stare pensively toward the gold-plated front doors. Outside, the unforgiving Australian sun had just begun to set, casting a pinkish-orange tinge over the marble of the lobby, and every now and then a beam of light would refract off some gold fixture to momentarily blind him. Through the tall glass windows he had a view of the street, crowded with couples and families all anxiously trying to complete their errands before the military-enforced curfew at seven. The curfew was a new development Seth had warned him about before he'd touched down in Sydney; the Australian Security Intelligence Organization had only just lifted the ban on air-travel in and out of the country within the last 48 hours, and Magnus had hopped on the first flight he could get. In the nine months since Seth's appointment as head of Dethklok Australia the country had suffered a severe increase in criminal activity, which the media linked to Seth's redirection of resources and police protection. Since that time, society in and around Sydney had devolved into lawless mobocracy, where one was lucky to find themselves a victim of human trafficking or organ theft and not of violent homicide. Intervention by the United Nations a number of weeks ago had marginally improved infrastructure and security, but the remnants of street gangs and looting were still visible in the shattered glass and bullet casings littering the pavement just outside the door. Magnus personally had nothing to fear being in Sydney, not when Seth had taken such great lengths to ensure his own safety; being with him was a lot like being next to a bright red target in a bullet proof glass bubble. Assassination attempts were at an all time high, but Seth's personal guard and security detail were so extensive Magnus didn't doubt that half the 'shoppers' outside the door were body guards in disguise, awaiting the man's arrival. As though on cue, an armored town car pulled to the curb just outside the door, and Magnus' stomach clenched with anticipation as he watched the little red haircut exit the vehicle carrying a- a- a what? What was he carrying? Something in each hand. A car seat, and an animal, perhaps, something that moved and squirmed and had hair, reddish-brown hair that looked horribly, horribly, _horribly_ familiar.

Oh, dear God.

Whatever anticipation Magnus had been experiencing turned to cold, sour dread in his stomach as Seth burst through the revolving door, throwing the kid more securely over his shoulder and hitching the car seat from his fist to the crook of his arm as he paused to scan the lobby.

Unbelievable.

Un _-fucking_ -believable.

Magnus knew Seth was pretty stupid, knew it well, but never in a million years would he have expected him to take his _own fucking kid_ to their fucking _love hotel_. Not that this was something they'd ever discussed, but why should they have had to? It had to be common sense - rule number one, don't involve your baby in your affair, right? Simple as that, or at least you'd _think._ This was just plain fucked. Jesus, if Amber had any idea where her child was right now she'd chop her husband's nut sack off - and Magnus had half a mind to text her and rat him out, too. The little shit deserved it, standing there on the pearly pink marble in his blindingly white Nikes with the kid in his arm, turning around in circles as though Magnus would pop out from some hiding place at any moment and surprise him. The mirrored aviators Seth wore seemed to be effective blinders; it was taking his eyes time to adjust, time Magnus could be using to ghost out the backdoor, if only his legs would unlock.

Magnus watched mutely as the redhead finally located him, stupid lopsided grin widening as he marched squeakily, too fast, across the tile toward the bar. Instinctively he bristled back, good eye darting toward the exit as though escape were in the realm of possibility, as though he hadn't forfeited the idea the moment he'd allowed Seth to spot his shadowed form at the back of the bar. Up until that moment his mind had been racing a mile a minute, but now he encountered radio silence, obnoxious grey buzzing like a TV without a channel. There was no time to think, even less time to act - a few more steps and his fate would be sealed, and suddenly it was done, he'd lost the moment, the edge. The guy was already standing there, setting the enormous _Dethklok_ patterned car seat on the floor beside the guitar case and the duffel bag, and using his baby-free hand to snag Magnus' drink off the counter.

"Hey," Seth huffed, downing the drink in one and slamming it back onto the bar. The redhead peeled the sunglasses off his face to reveal unflattering raccoon eyes. Magnus hadn't noticed the sunburn till that moment, hadn't noticed much of anything besides the baby, but now that Seth was standing right in front of him he could see the man was lobster red, and it was appallingly clear he'd dressed himself; bleach-white cargo shorts, Nike socks pulled halfway to his knees and a black t-shirt with block white lettering reading: **#1 DAD.** Magnus couldn't recall ever feeling less attracted to him. "So, huh, the kid's joinin' us for fuckin' dinner, how d'you like that?"

Seth's waiting stare was so bright, so expectant that Magnus felt forced to reply through grit teeth the only coherent thought running on loop through his sputtering brain. " _Why_?"

"Tch, why d'you fuckin' think? Amber. Ran out last minute today even though I _told_ her I had a thing tonight. But hey, I figured why not have you meet the lil' goofball, right?" Seth pulled the baby off his shoulder and cheated its body toward Magnus, flopping one pudgy little hand in a wave. "Say hi to Mag~gie!"

The baby started to cry. Magnus arched further away from the pair of them, father and son, half-lifting out of the bar stool like some coiled panther ready to bolt from the hotel at any moment. "You couldn't have gotten one of the hoodies to watch it?" His eyelid twitched - the good one.

"Hey, this is like, my fuckin' _son_ we're talkin' about, here," Seth said defensively, vigorously bouncing the left side of his body in an attempt to soothe the baby's blubbering. "But uh, no, yeah no. They, huh, won't send female Klokateers out no more, and if you think for _one second_ I'm gonna leave him with some faggy ass dude wantin' to suck my brother's dick, well, that's just fucked up, man." Apparently for the first time Seth noticed Magnus' expression, and his grin faltered. "Hey, it's gonna be fine, right? Little shit loves his car seat, we'll just stick him in there, do our thing, no biggie. We can even put him in the bathroo-"

" _Nope!_ " Magnus cut him off, scrambling the rest of the way out of his bar stool to back away from Seth, pointing one finger at his chest. "Nope! _You_ are going to call Amber _right now_ and have her pick him up!"

"No dice," Seth said, and then, "here, take him, I gotta take a leak."

Magnus seized up as the baby was thrust suddenly into his arms, fingers flying to cradle the back of its little red head. Oh, no.

"Seth. SETH."

He was already tottering off in the direction of the restroom.

 _Jesus Christ._ "WALLET."

That at least made him pause, long enough to fish the leather square out of his back pocket and draw back his arm for a toss.

"No, walk it, don't thr- don't throw it!" Magnus ducked, shielding the baby in his arms as the wallet sailed overhead and skittered behind the bar. By some stroke of luck it hit the floor and not the tower of glasses beside the liquor shelf, for which he had to be just a little grateful. The bartender stooped down to retrieve it, and he accepted the wallet from her outstretched hand with a muttered apology.

"Look, sir, I'm afraid you'll have to take the baby out. We don't allow minors in the bar," the bartender said, casting a critical eye over the hodgepodge of items at his feet.

"Of course you don't," Magnus grimaced, fishing one-handed in Seth's wallet for a $50 to slap down before holding the baby out at arm's-length. "Alright, kid, how the fuck do I hold you?" The baby stared back unhelpfully, crying paused for the moment. Though he'd seen about a thousand pictures this was his first time meeting Seth's son in the flesh, and so far Magnus wasn't all that impressed. He looked pretty featureless and if it weren't for the matching outfit Seth had stuck him in (complete with **#1 SON** onsie), he'd have never guessed the baby belonged to him. At least it had stopped its whining. That was probably a quality from Amber, because Seth sure as shit never did. The kid seemed to be returning Magnus' scrutiny and apparently liked what he saw, because the next moment his chubby little hands were combing through his beard and hair, pulling it sharply and shrieking with glee when Magnus winced. Evidently the kid hadn't escaped without a little of Seth after all.

Leaving his belongings on the floor of the bar, Magnus took the baby and the wallet to the check-in counter where he paid for a King Suite in cash, reveling in the shit-eating grin the attendant was forced to plaster on for the exchange. She had probably recognized Seth despite his unfortunate attire (which now that Magnus thought about it was probably an attempt at a disguise) and if she hadn't recognized him, well, the whole staff had likely been briefed about his arrival anyway. Seth plus guest. "The only King Suite we have available this evening had a late check-out," she said, "I'm afraid it's going to be at least another 30 minutes before it's ready." Magnus watched her face contort into something mildly apologetic. "We can offer you a $30 dollar credit to our on-site restaurant, Mr. Hammersmith, if that would be alright? We really do apologize for the inconvenience. I swear this never happens." Knowing Sydney, Magnus had a niggling suspicion that the restaurant was probably a seafood place, and probably not a very good one, but he accepted nonetheless. It wasn't as though they had a lot of options; Magnus was not about to leave the safety of the hotel with the kid. He was already likely to find himself on Amber's list come tomorrow, and wasn't about to add 'endangering the baby's life by walking the streets' to the charges she'd inevitably drum up. So with the attendant's assurance that their luggage would be held onto, Magnus and the baby headed past the lobby, through the bar and into the restaurant to await Seth, who had likely been distracted by his cell phone on the can. The host behind the podium greeted them with a smile. He tried not to feel too disappointed by the swordfish emblem on her apron.

"Table for two," Magnus said, and paused to glance at the baby balanced precariously in his arms. The baby stared back brightly, two fistfuls of Magnus' hair in his hands and a lopsided gum smile on its dimpled face. Carefully detangling his curls from the little fingers, Magnus let out a suffering sigh.

"With a highchair."


End file.
